Chapter 1
The trees whipping by as we drive down the wintery road provide a useful distraction. I’m not aware of our destination, but I know it’s somewhere with cold weather. Whatever. As long as it gets us away from there, I’m happy. As happy as one can be in our precarious situation, anyway.
I turn my head towards the drivers seat, where my father sits with his short brown hair and grim blue eyes. For the whole ride, I’ve been considering asking where we are heading, but thought against it at first and just decided to pipe down instead. Why not enjoy the scenery while it lasts. My father is, and will forever be, a city dweller. I’m the same.
Unfortunately our lives don't allow us to be. We've spent so much time living from town to town that I can't remember what it's like to live in the city.
However, I eventually get impatient with that decision and turn in my seat to face dad, crossing my legs. I don’t have the seatbelt on, though that’s nothing unusual. Dad doesn’t agree with it, but he figured out a long time ago that there’s no reasoning with me, so he just gave up and left me to my own devices. The way he sees it, I’m the one that suffers if I get thrown through the windshield - plus, he also sees the practical side to free movement should something happen.
“So, where we headed this time?” I question casually.
My inquiry earns me an amused glance. “Finally caved into the curiosity?"
I groan and roll my eyes. I am unfortunately a naturally curious person. When combined with childhood naivety, I received a pretty nasty shock when I was six years old.
As all children are, I was curious about how babies were born into the world, and my parents said that I was too young to know. So, being the curious little shit that I was, I - naturally - came to the conclusion that I must investigate this myself. I had a plan to sneak into my parent’s room while they were asleep and check out the place for clues
Boy did I get a surprise.
I’d walked up to the door and heard moaning. I thought someone was hurt so I barged in. The sight that greeted me was not child friendly, and my innocence was shattered at age six.
The saying “curiosity killed the cat” was a little too accurate in this situation for my liking. I’d been scarred for life once dad sat me down and explained the concept of sex and child birth. Well, until I was old enough to have sex myself. But the image of my parents naked and doing the dirty has been permanently ingrained into my memory.
My dad never let me live it down, not since it got to the point where it was allowed to be humorous. He seems to find my ever growing curiosity hilarious, the wanker. Ever since that fateful moment, I’d tried to keep my curiosity down but in the end it always turns up the victor.
“Are you ever going to let me live this down? Better yet, forget,” I groan in annoyance.
Dads shoulders shake with his mirth. “I don’t think it’s even possible to forget that sweetheart,” he chuckles.
I purse my lips. “Whatever, wake me up when we get there.” I turn and kick up my legs, placing my feet on the dashboard and crossing my arms across my chest.
“Sure thing.”
I close my eyes.
“It won’t be worth it though. We’re almost there,” dad informs me.
Just shut up and let me sleep, for fucks sake.
Just shut up and let me sleep, for fucks sake.
I shrug and sink further into my seat, focusing my energies on curbing my irritation so I can rest.
I'm hungry. I'm tired. Have to stay awake. Have to stay awake...for mummy. I feel like crying but mummy needs me. It's too hard. But Daddy will be home soon, he will make it better. All better. He always does. I love Daddy, I want him home. Mummy can't do it, I need Daddy. I'm all alone. All alone. Mummy is sleeping, I have to stay awake. For her. For when she wakes up otherwise she'll be mad. A grumble - my tummy hurts. Mummy can't feed me. Where's Daddy? I want Daddy...
“November. November honey.” I wake to someone nudging my shoulder.
I part my lids slowly, blinking in momentary confusion. What? I look out of the windshield to the street beyond. The sun is still up high in the sky, so I couldn’t have slept for long.
I turn to dad and he has that sad, helpless look in his eyes. I ignore it.
“Yes?"
He looks at me for a few seconds, a slight furrow between his brows. Disregarding his silent inquiry, I pretend to not notice the concern on his face. He should know by now how pointless it is to worry about me. There’s nothing to be done, and he should just accept that now and move on. I have.
“We’re here.”
I look out of my window and see a white double-story house. A suburban home, how sickeningly cute.
“What dump did we turn up in this time?” I grumble, climbing out of the car.
“New York,” he says hesitantly.
"What?" I panic. "Dad, what the fuck?"
"It's fine," he says reassuringly. "It's best to hide in plain sight. They aren't expecting us to be here."
“No, dad, they aren't. Not unless they’re clinically insane or just plain idiotic. Like you. Because if they spot us out and about randomly in a city this size, we're fucked.” I huff out a breath and clutch at my chest. Squeezing my eyes closed, I let out a sob and try to breathe through the panic.
“Sweetheart, calm down. Everything will be fine. Henry relocated us here specifically because they've discovered the area is clear. I'll explain more later, I promise, but right now you need to breathe and trust me,” Dad explains as he rubs my arms soothingly. “Now go inside and stake the place out, decide what you want done with it, while I grab the bags. The moving trucks should have already been.”
I pretend not to hear him and just walk up the stairs to the front door. I grasp the frame, my head stuffed with wool as I try to center myself. The ringing in my ear fades and the black around my vision slowly clears as I walk through the entrance.
The place is big, unnecessarily so for two people, and seems cosy enough. I make my way to the kitchen through the lounge room, trying to navigate my way to the staircase.
“What do you think?” I jump at the voice, but relax when I realise it’s just dad.
I shrug. “Where’s the stairs? I wanna check out my room.”
He nods in some random direction, then starts to unpack the equipment first, going by order of priority. I wonder where he'll set up shop this time.
I move towards the area he gestured to and, after some uncertain amount of time, finally come upon the staircase. Hallelujah
I’m terrible with this shit, but I recognise that there’s a few hallway areas leading to the different sections of upstairs. Downstairs is, if I’m correct, more of an “open-plan” design. I eventually find my bedroom, but after perusing the place, I discover that it’s a four bedroom house. For two people. Well done Henry.
Opening the white door, I take in my new room. Nothing special, pretty standard. Just how I like it.
The walls are a weird silver-grey colour, but all I can see is the whopper of a king size bed over by the left wall, the end of the bed reaching the middle of the room. There's a box sitting on it.
So the movers have been then.
The wall in front of me isn’t actually a wall and is instead a full length, floor to ceiling window with no curtains. The night stand is on the right side of the bed near the glass wall and my chest of draws is opposite my bed. There’s a door near the glass wall, and my chest of draws, that leads do the bathroom. On the left side of my bed, there’s a door which leads into a walk-in wardrobe.
I close my door and make my way to the bed. Sitting on it, I look around again.
“Home sweet home. Again,” I whisper.
I was crying in the corner of my room. I was cold, so cold. And in pain. My mummy...no....
“November! Wake up, I bought Maccas!” My dads voice makes its way to me and I jolt up and out of bed.
I make my way over to the floor to ceiling mirror, which is installed in the wall between the door and my walk in closet. I fix my hair and straighten my clothes, still breathing heavily. That dream wasn’t as vivid as they usually are.
It still has the same affects though.
Feeling satisfied with myself, I quickly make my way downstairs and bound into the lounge room. I don’t have to ask where he is because we always eat in the lounge room. It’s our one tradition.
“Hey dad,” I grumble, plopping down on the disgustingly yellow couch. I grab my McChicken burger and start eating, ignoring the look dad was giving me. After five minutes of me eating and not acknowledging his silent question, he finally gives in.
“What was it about this time?”
“The usual,” I mumble, sighing.
“Care to elaborate?”
“No. Look, this one wasn’t all that clear, okay? It was jumbled up – yeah, it had to do with what they all usually are about, but still. Just fucking drop it, alright?” I blurt out, irritated.
Silence.
I shove my burger away, glaring at him from across the table. “I said, alright?"
He sighs through his nose, shaking his head, which just serves in pissing me off even more. “Yeah, alright.”
We continue to eat, and that’s that. End of topic. This is never really a good subject for us.
We don’t talk for the rest of the night.
After dinner, I run upstairs in a foul mood. The only thing worse than tonight is tomorrow. We’ve settled into a house, so now it’s time to go back to school.
Whooptee-fucking-doo. As if I didn’t already have enough reasons to neck myself.
